


Lizzie Saltzman, Mathematician

by TheNutcase



Category: Legacies (TV 2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, F/F, Hope Mikaelson & Lizzie Saltzman Friendship, Humor, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-07
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:02:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25759306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheNutcase/pseuds/TheNutcase
Summary: Hope is failing Calculus -  not because she’s bad at math, but because she can’t stop staring at the back of Josie Saltzman's head.Her teacher, Mr. Williams, sets her up with a militant math tutor, the notorious Lizzie Saltzman.Lizzie’s job description changes when she realizes the real reason that Hope is failing.
Relationships: Hope Mikaelson/Josie Saltzman
Comments: 38
Kudos: 357





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I also write Lizzie Saltzman, Matchmaker, so no one try to copyright strike me or something

Hope stared down at the problem.

She just had to take the derivative. It wasn’t even that hard. She just had to do the trick that Mr. Williams had taught them – the one she’d drilled into her head a hundred times the night before. Piece of cake. All she had to do was bring the exponent down, multiply it by the constant, and –

Her thought process got cut off when she was distracted by some movement in front of her.

Josie had just shifted in her seat. Hope’s gaze automatically darted off of her paper and landed on Josie’s back.

Maybe Josie was nervous, Hope figured. The test was worth a decent chunk of their grade, after all. Or maybe she was just uncomfortable – the classroom chairs certainly weren’t the best to sit on. 

Then again, Josie always did this thing when Mr. Williams was lecturing, where she practically writhed around in her seat, as if the boredom was causing her physical pain. 

It was sort of adorable. 

She didn’t normally do it during tests, though. During tests, Josie would get super rigid and focused, from the second Mr. Williams handed her the paper to the second she turned it in. 

That was also sort of adorable, in another way.

But right now, Josie was just acting a bit fidgety. 

Maybe she’d come across a problem she didn’t know how to do. Maybe she’d forgotten one of those stupid derivatives they had to memorize for the trig functions.

The thought reminded Hope that she, herself, did not remember the derivatives for any of the trig functions – and then, Hope was reminded that she, herself, was in the middle of taking a fucking test. 

_Dammit_ , Hope scolded herself. _Again?!_

Hope forced her eyes off of Josie’s back and over to the clock on the wall. A few more minutes had passed – a few minutes that should’ve been spent solving problems, not staring at Josie Saltzman and wondering if _she_ was solving problems (for the third time).

Fifteen minutes had gone by in total, and Hope was still on question one. 

She wasn’t just _on_ question one, either – she was _starting_ question one.

 _Focus, Hope,_ she told herself, shifting in her seat and hunching over the test. 

Question one. The derivative of _f(x) = 7x 3 \+ 5x2._ That was fucking easy. It was a warmup, a free space on a bingo card – they were doing problems like this the first day they started the chapter. 

Well, maybe it wasn’t _easy_ – it was still Calculus. But, if Hope couldn’t just buckle down and do this one, she had pretty much no chance of getting any other question right.

Hope _knew_ how to do it. She shifted in her seat, writing _‘f’(x) =’_ in the space below the question to prepare herself. 

She was so close. All she had to do was bring the exponent down, multiply it by the constant, and –

Josie cleared her throat and Hope was startled, nearly falling out of her seat.

Did Josie have a sore throat or something? Should Hope offer her a cough drop? She had some in her backpack – but, no, that would be weird, wouldn’t it? 

Yeah, that would be weird. Even if it wouldn’t be weird, it’s not like Hope was going to be able to muster up the courage to speak to her. And, besides, they were in the middle of a test –

Oh, right. The test. 

Hope looked up at the clock again. Another minute gone, with nothing to show for it.

It was already a quarter of the way through the class period. Hope barely restrained herself from groaning miserably and disrupting everyone else.

Hope was going to fail.

It was official, now. Josie Saltzman was a major problem. Hope could simply no longer deny it to herself.

* * *

The bell rang about half an hour later. Hope tensed. She’d completed a solid six problems out of fifteen. 

(Sadly, that was way better than she’d done on most assignments so far this semester. But it still wasn’t nearly enough to pass.)

“Alright, everyone, time’s up,” Mr. Williams called out to the class. “You can just stack your papers on my desk on your way out.”

A handful of Hope’s classmates had already haphazardly thrown their papers on his desk and scurried out the door before he finished speaking. It was the last class of the day, and most of the students in the class were seniors; they were probably trying to make it out of the parking lot ahead of the buses.

Hope didn’t move for a moment, though – she just watched as half the class fought to get out of the room first, contemplating whether or not it would be worth it to try to sneak in another answer on her test.

It wouldn’t be worth it, she decided. There wasn’t much of a difference between an F and an F+. Hope could do that math, at least.

Mr. Williams raised an eyebrow at all of the chaos. “Have a good weekend!” he called after the fleeing students, his tone slightly sarcastic.

Hope stood up and quickly gathered her things, slinging her backpack over her shoulder. 

The room was practically empty already, and Hope didn’t want to be the last one to leave. That might give Mr. Williams an opportunity to confront her about the objectively horrible grade she’d scored on a quiz toward the end of last week.

Josie Saltzman made her way over to Mr. Williams’ desk without rushing. Her sister, Lizzie, leaned against the wall beside the door and crossed her arms over her chest. They must’ve driven to school together, Hope figured, because Lizzie was impatiently tapping her foot against the floor as she waited for Josie to turn in her test.

When Lizzie noticed that Hope was looking at her, she gave Hope a scathing glare. Hope scowled and glared right back at her before looking away. 

Hope didn’t entirely know when she and Lizzie had developed a rivalry. Frankly, Lizzie had never been a big fan of Hope. Hope was never one to back down from a challenge, so their resentment evolved unchecked. 

They had a mutual understanding that they simply didn’t like each other.

Josie was a total contrast to Lizzie. It was evidenced just by the way she smiled brightly at Mr. Williams while she turned in her test. “Have a good weekend, Mr. Williams,” Josie said sincerely, her voice alone sparking butterflies in Hope’s stomach just because she hadn’t heard it in a while. 

Mr. Williams smiled back at her. Josie was pretty obviously his favorite. 

Hope couldn’t blame him. Sure, some people would probably think that it made Josie a teacher’s pet or something, but Hope knew better. Josie was just a little ball of sunshine. She was equally as kind to the janitors and the lunch ladies, even though they had no power to grade or punish her. 

It was one of the things Hope admired about her the most. That and her sheer, humble intelligence; not to mention the way she looked at people like she saw something significant in them.

Hope admired a lot of things about Josie. Honestly, Josie was kind of Hope’s favorite, too. 

Hope momentarily seemed to forget that she had just stood up with the intention of handing in her test. She also forgot that she had just tragically failed said test. She was frozen in place with her bag slung over her shoulder, staring at Josie with a little involuntary smile on her lips.

That is, until Josie turned around and caught her. Josie looked surprised for a moment, her eyes widening nearly imperceptibly while her cheeks reddened from the attention. Then, after a pause that felt like an eternity, Josie gave Hope a small, tentative smile back.

And, like an idiot, Hope froze even further, her own eyes widening with panic as she forced her lips back into a straight line. 

She was being so _obvious._

Hope didn’t know what it was about Josie Saltzman that made her completely incapable of maintaining her default poker face. Something about Josie caused Hope's emotions to show right on the surface. It was as if Hope hadn’t spent years teaching herself to hide them.

The second she remembered herself, Hope would always panic and overcompensate and end up staring at Josie with this forcefully blank, stony expression on her face.

And then, Josie’s smile would sort of droop into a little pout, and Josie would nervously break eye contact, and Hope’s heart would shatter into a million pieces in her chest. 

That was the exact sequence of events that occurred this time, like clockwork, before Josie walked quickly to the door with her head down.

Josie probably thought that Hope didn’t like her. In fact, Josie probably thought that Hope _disliked_ her. 

In reality, Hope was just trying to make sure that there was no way Josie would ever figure out her secret – that secret being that Hope liked Josie a little bit _too_ much, and that Josie had the power to break her heart.

Hope frowned as she watched Josie slip away through the door. Her frown deepened when Lizzie glared at her once again with even more intensity before spinning on her heel and storming out the door herself.

Then, Hope glanced around just to see that she was, in fact, the last person in the classroom besides Mr. Williams. Reality hit her, and she remembered that she was still holding an exam - an exam which she had thoroughly failed. 

Hope walked over to Mr. Williams without making eye contact. She dropped her test on top of the pile with a miserable huff. Mr. Williams glanced at her with something akin to pity, as though he could already tell that she had failed. 

Mr. Williams picked up her test and began to flip through it. Hope really didn’t want to see his expression when he realized that most of it was blank, so she spun around and headed toward the door, trying to slip outside before he could stop her.

“Wait, Hope,” Mr. Williams called out to her.

Hope frowned, but she halted in her tracks. She turned around reluctantly to see that Mr. Williams was frowning right back at her.

She hated this part – the way he would look at her as if she’d disappointed him.

“Can we talk for a second?” Mr. Williams asked.

Hope scanned through every possible excuse she could think of. None of them seemed valid, so she resigned herself to her fate and walked a few steps closer to him.

Hope just stared at him for a moment, then, with her apathetic poker face firmly in place. Mr. Williams glanced away briefly, as though he couldn’t think of how to phrase what he needed to say.

Mr. Williams cleared his throat. “So,” he started awkwardly. “Your grades are a bit…,” he trailed off, frowning down at the paper in his hands instead of continuing.

Hope sighed. “I know,” she replied simply, crossing her arms over her chest and staring at the wall.

Mr. Williams released a sigh of his own, dropping her test back on his desk. “Look, Hope, I’m not trying to make you feel bad about it,” he began. “I know you’re a good student. I’m just trying to figure out what’s been going on with you.”

Hope stared at him blankly, blinking a few times.

Mr. Williams frowned again at her lack of response, studying her closely. “If you’re dealing with something at home or something, maybe you should talk to the guidance counselor?” he suggested carefully, sounding as though he was trying to avoid upsetting her.

Hope’s brow furrowed. “No, I’m not…,” she trailed off. Nothing was going on at home. “It’s not that,” she finished anticlimactically.

“What is it, then?” Mr. Williams prompted, his tone still cautious.

Hope simply stared at him again. 

How exactly was she supposed to explain this? _I just have a pretty extreme crush and it makes it impossible for me to listen to a word you say in class?_

No chance in hell.

Mr. Williams looked a bit disappointed when Hope once again didn’t reply, but he backed off easily enough. “Well, alright, then,” he relented, reaching down to begin tidying up the stack of tests. Hope was grateful that he wasn’t paying as much attention to her anymore. “We’re just getting pretty far into the semester at this point, so I want to try to get you back on track before it’s too late. I think it might help if we get you set up with a tutor.”

Hope stared at him as he continued to tidy up his desk. She thought about it. On the one hand, she felt a little bit embarrassed to admit that she needed a tutor. She’d never needed one before.

On the other hand, she hadn’t been able to pay attention for the entire semester, so she frankly knew nothing about Calculus.

Hope shifted on her feet uncomfortably. Mr. Williams still wasn’t looking at her. She wondered if he was doing it on purpose, so that she wouldn’t feel so put on the spot. “Um, okay,” she hesitantly agreed, adjusting her bag on her shoulder. “How do I go about getting a tutor, then?”

Mr. Williams looked up at her and smiled, pleased that she was being cooperative. “I’ll write you a pass for your free period on Monday,” he explained. “I’ll introduce you to your tutor, then we can work out a schedule.”

Hope nodded, still feeling a bit apprehensive about the whole thing. She waited patiently for Mr. Williams to fill out a pass for her, and then she turned around and headed home.

* * *

Hope halted in her tracks, scowling the second she walked into the room. “No,” she said firmly, barely restraining herself from spinning around and leaving.

The occupants of the room turned to look at her. Mr. Williams frowned, confused.

Lizzie just scowled. “What do you mean, _no?”_ she snapped irritably, looking offended for some reason.

Hope addressed Mr. Williams, ignoring Lizzie altogether. “This isn’t going to work,” she said with the utmost certainty. “I don’t want to be tutored by Lizzie Saltzman.”

Lizzie scoffed, pushing off from where she was leaning against a desk and crossing her arms over her chest. “And why the hell not?” she demanded with a threatening glare.

“Because,” Hope hissed with a glare of her own. She turned back to look at Mr. Williams. “It won’t help me. I want someone else.”

Lizzie gasped, dramatically laying a hand over her heart as though Hope had just said the most offensive thing she could think of. “I’ll have you know that I am an _excellent_ tutor,” she informed Hope, affronted. “And you would be lucky to be tutored by me, thank you very much.”

Hope scoffed. She didn’t seem to buy into that at all. How could Lizzie possibly be a good tutor? “I want someone else,” she repeated firmly, still only addressing Mr. Williams. 

For his part, Mr. Williams was just glancing back and forth between the two girls like he’d never seen a more bizarre interaction.

Lizzie took a step forward to insert herself into Hope's line of sight, clearly unhappy about the fact that she was being ignored. “You don't get to just _reject_ my help, Mikaelson,” she growled.

Hope’s brow furrowed with exasperated confusion. “You _want_ to tutor me?” she asked, in total disbelief.

Lizzie raised an eyebrow. “No,” she spat defiantly. She gave Hope an appraising once-over before frowning, as if to emphasize that point. “But now you’ve questioned my ability, so I have no choice but to prove you wrong. I’m going to tutor the shit out of you.”

Hope just stared at Lizzie for a long moment, in shock. Then, she looked back at Mr. Williams once again. “Mr. Williams, I cannot do this,” she said, practically begging.

Mr. Williams (finally) decided to contribute to the conversation, stepping around his desk to get between the two girls. “Hope,” he began carefully. “Lizzie has the best grade in my class.”

Hope raised an eyebrow and gave Lizzie a retaliatory once over. She looked back at Mr. Williams. “Seriously?” she snarked.

Lizzie scowled once again.

“Yes,” Mr. Williams confirmed. “And, shockingly, she has agreed to help you.”

Hope was confused by this, shooting Lizzie a bewildered glance.

Lizzie just shrugged. “I like to do charity work sometimes,” she explained simply, as though it weren’t an insult.

Hope scowled, her eyes darkening. She looked like she was just about ready to get detention for her first fist fight.

Mr. Williams sighed, rubbing his temple from the stress. "I suppose if you _really_ don't want to work with Lizzie, I could ask the student with the second highest grade in class," he suggested.

Hope sighed with relief, even as Lizzie aimed a scowl at Mr. Williams. "Yes, please," Hope said, the relief shining through in her voice. "Who is it?"

"Josie Saltzman," Mr. Williams answered.

 _"No,"_ Hope replied immediately, her eyes widening with horror. She swallowed thickly, a montage of all of the Calculus-themed ways she could potentially humiliate herself in front of Josie playing in her mind. 

Both Mr. Williams and Lizzie stared at her, confused. Lizzie looked far more judgmental about it.

Hope cleared her throat and tried to get a hold of herself. "Lizzie's fine," she said quickly, her eyes darting around nervously.

Mr. Williams appeared to be confused at the sudden change of heart, but he wasn't about to argue against it. "Um," he began cautiously. "Alright, let's work out a schedule for you guys, then," he suggested.

The set of Hope's shoulders relaxed, even though Lizzie continued to stare at her suspiciously while they planned out a schedule.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is dedicated to @feuenfeu
> 
> (And also that one tweet where someone accused all hosies of being librarians and math students bc lmfao)
> 
> … watch this turn into a whole saga


	2. Chapter 2

Hope found the school’s library uncomfortable in just about every possible way. Sometimes, she suspected that it must’ve been designed to be that way on purpose. 

(Someone surely should’ve been fired for it.)

The chairs were hard, their backrests offset just enough to force students to slouch forward. The chairs were also slightly too short for the tables, and they were constructed so poorly that they were all on the verge of collapse.

The air was somehow slightly too cold and slightly too dry at the same time. Despite that, the smell of musty old books managed to permeate across the room just fine. 

The layout of the tables made it so that Hope couldn’t find a single spot where she could sit without the fear of being attacked from behind. (Hope had to admit that her anxiety about that had more to do with her life experiences than it had to do with the real risk of being attacked from behind, though.)

There were practically no windows, and some administrator had apparently overcompensated for that fact by lining the ceilings with the most jarring fluorescent lights on the market. They were obnoxiously bright. 

They were also tinted green for some reason.

For all the aforementioned reasons, Hope tried to avoid the library like the plague. But it seemed that her three years of success on that front had come to an abrupt end. She had reluctantly agreed to be tutored by Lizzie Saltzman, and that meant that she would now have to meet Lizzie Saltzman in the library three times a week.

Hope considered this a tragedy.

But Hope was not the type of person to complain about something she had agreed to. So, she marched down to the library, signed in and positioned herself as far in the corner as she could manage.

Sadly, the green lighting did nothing to make Hope’s Calculus textbook more interesting. 

(She’d been staring down at it for about five minutes now, reading the same sentence over and over again as she waited for Lizzie to show up.)

Hope didn’t think that her confusion had anything to do with her being (recently) incompetent at math. She decided that whoever wrote the textbook simply did not have a talent for writing riveting math-related sentences, and then she skipped ahead to the problems.

What was truly a shame was the fact that Hope (more-or-less) knew what she was doing. In fact, Hope secretly _liked math_ (as much as a senior in high school could like math, anyway). 

Hope knew how to take a derivative (bring the exponent down, multiply it by the constant, and—never mind). She even sometimes enjoyed the feeling of switching off her brain to take derivatives (though she certainly wasn’t going to proudly inform any of her classmates of that fact).

Hope was just apparently unable to take a derivative if Josie was sitting within five feet of her.

And that was very unfortunate. Because even though Hope was able to come up with the answer ‘ _f’(x) = 5x 4 \+ 21x3’ _in a couple minutes while sitting alone in the library, it would most likely take her about a half hour to do the same problem in class.

In class, Hope would become preoccupied with the way Josie’s hair fell over her back. She’d become preoccupied with the way Josie’s shoulders got a little bit tense whenever Mr. Williams presented a new concept, and with the way they gradually relaxed as Mr. Williams presented examples. She’d become preoccupied with—

Hope scowled at her own thoughts. Her crush had gone way too far. It was almost Pavlovian, now. Thinking about math caused a chain reaction that always resulted in a daydream about Josie.

Hope was saved from her own thoughts (which had begun to spiral toward the dread of failing) when Lizzie slid into the chair across from her. 

Hope flinched, startled. It was almost as though Lizzie had manifested out of thin air.

Lizzie didn’t even bother to greet her, though. “Put your stuff away,” she commanded.

Hope’s brow furrowed with confusion. Lizzie didn’t notice, though—she seemed to be busy staring at the circulation desk, for some reason. Hope frowned. “You’re supposed to tutor me,” she reminded Lizzie, gesturing toward the Calculus book that was spread out on the table in front of her.

Lizzie’s eyes darted back over to Hope, as though she were surprised that Hope wasn’t instantly obeying. “I will,” she replied, raising an eyebrow. “But not here.”

Hope stared back at her blankly. “What?” she asked.

Lizzie rolled her eyes. “It’s the last class of the day,” she drawled. “We’re ditching. Obviously.”

Hope’s lips parted and she stared back at Lizzie for a moment, stunned. “Are you joking?” she finally said.

Lizzie raised an eyebrow and cocked her head to the side, scanning Hope’s expression as though Hope were being unreasonable. “No,” she deadpanned.

Hope scowled as soon as she realized that Lizzie was serious. “I am not _skipping school_ with my tutor,” she whispered harshly, scandalized. Her eyes darted around the room, as though she were worried that the principal would pop up and punish them for even considering such a thing. “We’ll get in trouble.”

Lizzie glanced back over at the circulation desk once again. “Mr. Vardemus literally wouldn’t notice if we started playing charades over here,” she snarked, her lips curling into a judgmental sneer. “Look at him.”

Hope did, in fact, look at him, as she had been ordered. 

Mr. Vardemus was leaning over his desk reading a book. He seemed to be very absorbed in it. 

Hope had to admit that it didn’t look like he was aware of what was happening around him in the slightest. 

But Hope was still a little bit reluctant to ditch school. She’d never done it before. “Where do you even want to go?” she inquired with an accusatory scowl, shifting uncomfortably in her seat.

* * *

“We’re going to march down this nature trail and recite the quadratic formula,” Lizzie stated simply.

It had been about ten minutes, and, in that time, Lizzie managed to drag Hope to the back of the football field. 

Lizzie hadn’t even finished her sentence before she was already storming away into the woods. Hope didn’t move for a moment, dumbstruck. Then, she realized that Lizzie was about to leave her behind. 

Hope scurried along after her. Lizzie was making her way down the path at an impressive velocity. Hope jogged to catch up, and she could barely catch a glimpse of the football field when she glanced back over her shoulder. “Um, what?” she called out to Lizzie’s back.

Hope couldn’t remember ever feeling so disoriented.

Lizzie completely ignored her question. “Negative B plus-or-minus the square root of B-squared minus 4-A-C, all over 2-A!” she recited in a militant shout, as though they were in bootcamp. 

Hope flinched, shrinking back into herself. She didn’t really think that it was wise for Lizzie to be _shouting_ right now, considering the fact that they had just secretly snuck out of school less than fifteen minutes ago.

Lizzie looked over her shoulder with a scowl when Hope remained silent. “Hope, it’s your turn,” she snapped impatiently.

Hope felt like her brain was short-circuiting. She scrambled to keep up with Lizzie, who was borderline running through the forest at this point. “What kind of math tutoring is this?” Hope gasped miserably, staring intently at the ground to avoid tripping over any roots.

Lizzie turned back to stare ahead. “The kind you definitely aren’t going to forget,” she drawled, raising an eyebrow that Hope couldn’t see.

Hope did, in fact, nearly trip over a root. She caught herself with a few quick steps at the last moment. “Lizzie, where the _fuck_ are we going?” she whined instead of reciting the quadratic formula, extremely unhappy about the chaotic whirlwind of events she seemed to have gotten swept up in.

Lizzie rolled her eyes without turning around or slowing her pace. “On the other side of this nature trail, there is a cul-de-sac,” she explained, as though she were talking to a child. “Beyond that cul-de-sac, there is a Panera. We are going to be studious over bread bowls.”

Hope frowned, but she had to admit that she liked the idea of a bread bowl.

Thankfully, Lizzie immediately abandoned her efforts to get Hope to chant the quadratic formula. She opted instead to go on a rant about her budding romance with a boy named Sebastian from her English class. 

They were meant to be, apparently.

Hope didn’t really care that much, to be honest. But the change of subject had caused the conversation to feel a lot less like an attack, so she didn’t complain. 

Hope zoned out as soon as Lizzie started droning on and on about Sebastian's sexy accent, though. 

“But anyway, what about _your_ love life?” Lizzie asked abruptly.

Hope snapped out of her boredom, her eyes widening slightly with panic. She blinked a few times. “Um, what about it?” she replied, displeased to hear that she already sounded a bit defensive.

Lizzie shrugged. “I mean, do you even have one?” she clarified.

Hope scowled, glaring venomously at the back of Lizzie’s head. “Fuck off,” she muttered, redirecting her glare to the ground.

(Hope did not, in fact, have a love life, unless pining after Josie Saltzman qualified. Even if that did qualify, Hope certainly wasn’t about to explain it to Josie’s sister.) 

Lizzie shrugged, still charging ahead instead of glancing back. “What? It’s not an insult, I’m just saying,” she said, raising her hands in mock surrender. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you show interest in anyone.”

“I have a love life,” Hope claimed, her voice no less defensive. She hated this topic, and it showed. “I was just talking to this guy, Roman, last summer. Not that it’s any of your business.”

The path widened and Lizzie took the opportunity to drop back, walking alongside Hope instead of in front of her. “Roman?” Lizzie echoed, side-eying Hope with a raised eyebrow. “Never heard of him. Are you sure he’s real?”

Hope’s scowl returned with full intensity. Somehow, the conversation was even more irritating now that she could see Lizzie’s face. “Yes, he’s _real,_ ” she snapped. “He just doesn’t go to our school.”

Lizzie scoffed out a laugh, staring ahead again. “It’s just like you to search for romantic connections elsewhere even though everyone at school is in love with you.”

Hope frowned. That was news to her. “What are you talking about? Who exactly is _everyone?”_

Lizzie pursed her lips like she was thinking. “Rafael, for one,” she said.

Hope’s brow furrowed with confusion. “You mean Rafael Waithe?” she asked. “The captain of the football team?”

Lizzie gave Hope a look, as though she’d just said something socially illiterate. “Co-captain,” she corrected haughtily. Lizzie seemed to recall something, rolling her eyes with a scoff. “Thanks for ruining that for me, by the way.”

Hope frowned. She didn’t know what the hell _that_ meant.

Lizzie immediately moved on from it before Hope could ask. “And the other co-captain has a thing for you, too,” she said casually. “Emmett, or whatever.”

Hope’s frown deepened. “Ethan?”

“Yeah, that’s it,” Lizzie agreed, sounding a lot like she didn’t care. “His sister has a crush on you, too.”

Hope halted in her tracks, shocked. “Wait, _Maya_?”

Lizzie walked a few steps further before realizing that Hope was no longer beside her. She halted, too, and spun on her heel. “Are you seriously surprised?” she asked with an impatient frown. When Hope only stared back at her, Lizzie released a disbelieving laugh. “Next you’ll tell me that you don’t know Landon is in love with you.”

Hope just stared at Lizzie blankly for another beat. “Landon?” she repeated.

Lizzie raised her eyebrows. “Yeah,” she said slowly. “Scrawny kid, looks a bit like an emu. He sits right behind you in Calc.”

Hope blinked quickly and cleared her throat, trying to recover from her surprise. “I mean, I know who he is,” she claimed defensively. “I just didn’t know he had a… thing for me.”

Lizzie violently rolled her eyes. “You’re so oblivious,” she stated matter-of-factly, as though it weren't an insult. Lizzie turned back around and started marching down the trail again. “Keep walking, we’re almost there.”

Hope frowned, but she promptly followed after Lizzie. Lizzie looked like she was still completely willing to leave Hope behind, and Hope had no clue where they were.

Hope could see the trees thinning out ahead of them, and she realized that Lizzie was right—they were apparently coming to the edge of the forest. 

“Hope, do you know the hinge theorem?” Lizzie called out over her shoulder.

Hope recoiled with confusion, her eyes fixated on the ground again. The roots seemed a bit messier here, she noted. “The what?” she replied absentmindedly.

“The hinge theorem,” Lizzie repeated. “It says the shortest distance between two points is a straight line.”

This was not, in fact, the hinge theorem. It was just a random-ass quote from Archimedes. 

But Hope didn’t know that.

Hope frowned. She had been enjoying the fact that they had stopped talking about math for a while, even though it meant that Hope was forced to talk about romance. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because it’s why we’re about to trespass across this man’s lawn,” Lizzie explained simply, sounding bored.

Hope’s eyes darted up from the ground. They were right at the end of the path now, she noticed. The trees were parting around them and opening up to a well-manicured lawn. Hope immediately realized that this was someone’s backyard, and that that ‘someone’ was a middle-aged man, who was sitting on his porch sipping a beer and hadn’t yet noticed them. “Wait, _what_ —"

“Hello, kind sir,” Lizzie shamelessly called out to the man as she strolled into his backyard. His eyes widened at the sudden interruption, and they darted over to Lizzie from where they had been observing a nearby bird. Lizzie smiled in a way that she probably thought would be charming. “Don’t mind us—we are just on our way to a Panera Bread that is on the other side of these woods.”

The man looked very surprised to see them manifesting out of his trees. Otherwise, the look on his face was completely unreadable.

Hope panicked. “I am _so_ sorry about this,” she blurted out desperately, following close behind Lizzie and nudging her forward quicker.

Hope was trying to minimize the amount of time they would spend trampling his grass. She prayed that it would keep him from calling the cops or something.

The man just gave them both a bemused stare, taking another sip of his beer.

When they made it across his front lawn and out onto the road, Hope immediately began to berate Lizzie about how she needed to stop trying to blindside her. 

Lizzie gave little indication that she even heard a word Hope was saying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uh, yeah, that happened
> 
> follow me on Twitter @Th3Nutcase
> 
> :)


	3. Chapter 3

Lizzie Saltzman could read people.

It was one of the many amazing things that Lizzie Saltzman could do. She could read people as though people walked around with their most recent diary entries projected in their auras. 

Lizzie could read people so well, in fact, that people often bored the shit out of her. It was exhausting to have to _pretend_ to lag behind with them; to have to pretend not to know the things they were trying to keep hidden.

Lizzie didn’t have the patience to lounge around at lunch and listen to Josie’s acquaintance, Landon, as he dropped subtle little hints about his pathetic decade-long crush on Hope Mikaelson. 

Because Lizzie knew all about Landon's crush before he did. And every time he dropped a hint, it took everything in her to stop herself from screaming _“tell me something I don’t know”_ directly into his face.

Landon, apparently, could not read people as well as Lizzie could. He rarely paid attention to the way Lizzie would roll her eyes at him. He also rarely paid attention to the way Josie squirmed uncomfortably in her seat whenever he brought up Hope—no doubt because of her _own_ decade-long crush on Hope Mikaelson.

Decade-long crushes on Hope Mikaelson seemed to be a common affliction in Mystic Falls. Lizzie didn't understand it, but it wasn't hard to see. As far as Lizzie was concerned, half of her classmates might as well profess their love from the rooftops. It was obvious enough already, with the way that everyone and their grandma seemed unable to stop themselves from gawking at Hope with heart eyes all of the time.

But Hope Mikaelson, herself, was an enigma.

Hope _never_ allowed what she was feeling to show on the surface. She was always completely blank. 

Lizzie had never met anyone more difficult to read. Maybe, Lizzie guessed, that was part of the appeal—Hope was a total mystery. No one knew how she felt about anything.

Except, everyone knew that Hope Mikaelson hated Josie Saltzman. 

No one knew why. 

Hope just made it pretty obvious, with the way she would practically glare at Josie every other day. It was a dead giveaway. Hope rarely even paid attention to anyone else. She was usually all wrapped up in her own thoughts, completely impenetrable. (So wrapped up in her own thoughts, Lizzie had just learned, that she was completely oblivious to the fact that everyone was in love with her.)

But Hope Mikaelson paid attention to Josie Saltzman. Hope always seemed to be watching her—apparently just to give her the coldest, least-friendly glares imaginable.

Lizzie didn’t understand it. Very few people _ever_ disliked Josie. Josie was just about the nicest person Lizzie knew (most of the time). Josie even remembered the name of the lunch lady’s _dog_. She regularly asked how he was doing, for fuck’s sake.

There was absolutely no reason for Hope to hate her.

Lizzie found it vicariously offensive, actually, since Josie's crush made it impossible for her to hold Hope accountable. In Lizzie’s eyes, Hope went out of her way to trample all over Josie’s feelings. 

And Josie was a pretty sensitive person—especially when there were _feelings_ involved. Lizzie could tell that it made Josie sad.

So, that’s why Lizzie never liked Hope very much.

But this year, it had been getting even worse, ever since Mr. Williams assigned Hope a seat right behind Josie in Calc. Hope used to just glare at Josie in passing—now, she glared before and after class, and sometimes during class, and sometimes in the halls, and sometimes after school.

And Lizzie could not _for the love of God_ figure out what Hope’s problem was.

It got to the point where Lizzie simply decided that enough was enough. 

An ideal opportunity was presented to her when Mr. Williams asked her to tutor Hope in Calc. It was the perfect chance to investigate. It also had the added advantage of allowing Lizzie to showcase her intellectual superiority.

So, she graciously accepted the role, much to Mr. Williams’s shock.

And Lizzie swore to herself that she would figure out the reason that Hope Mikaelson wouldn’t stop glaring at her sister, at any cost.

“I don’t get it,” Lizzie deadpanned, staring at Hope intently while Hope stared down at her empty bread bowl.

Hope’s eyes darted up to stare back at her. “You don’t get what?” she asked with a frown.

Lizzie frowned herself. “Why you’re failing,” she elaborated. She violently poked the practice test with the eraser-end of her pencil, scooting it a bit closer to Hope on the table. The paper was covered in check-marks, marked with red ink because Lizzie had expected that they'd be _X_ _'s_. “You’re getting everything right.”

Hope shifted uncomfortably in her seat, glancing away without responding. Lizzie didn’t understand why. It’s not like they were sitting in those hellish chairs from the library.

Lizzies eyes narrowed. “Do you have test anxiety or something?” she asked.

“No,” Hope muttered under her breath, now stabbing at her empty bread bowl with a fork.

Lizzie frowned. “So, what, then?” she continued impatiently. “Are you failing on purpose?”

Hope instantly glared. “ _No,”_ she growled through her teeth. “Why would I agree to be tutored by you if I was trying to fail?”

Lizzie shrugged. “I don’t know,” she began. “Maybe because you can’t get other people to hang out with you?”

Hope scowled, her glare intensifying. “If you’re only here to insult me, maybe I should just resign myself to fail,” she drawled sarcastically.

Lizzie gave Hope a stern look. “You’re not allowed to fail,” she snapped, her voice stern and matter of fact. “My reputation as a tutor is at stake. You’re going to score a solid C in this class, or else.”

Hope scoffed, staring back down at her bread bowl. “I should’ve gone with Josie,” she muttered resentfully under her breath.

Lizzie’s eyes narrowed. She focused in on Hope like a predator who had cornered a prey animal. “Hm, since you brought _that_ up,” she started, her voice hinting at something dangerous. “What’s your deal with my sister?”

Hope froze, every muscle in her body tensing. Her eyes darted up to stare at Lizzie, cold and guarded. “What do you mean by that?” she hissed, her lips twitching into a frown.

Lizzie raised an eyebrow at that reaction. She laid her pencil down on the table almost violently and crossed her arms over her chest. “Well, why do you hate her so much?” she challenged.

Hope’s lips instantly parted in shock. She just stared at Lizzie for a long moment, her eyes wide, until Lizzie raised her eyebrow even higher to remind Hope to respond. 

“What?” Hope asked, her voice just above a whisper and more shocked than hostile now. She swallowed thickly, crossing her arms over her chest to mirror Lizzie. “I don’t.”

Lizzie pursed her lips skeptically. “Oh, yeah?” she replied. “Then why do you glare at her all the time?”

Hope scowled. “I don’t _glare_ at her,” she snapped.

Lizzie scoffed. “Uh, you absolutely _do_ ,” she retorted, her tone mocking. "You're always glaring at her for no reason. Kind of like you're glaring at me right now."

Hope opened and closed her mouth a couple of times, but nothing came out of it. Her hostility seemed to morph into confusion after a long moment. “Wait,” she murmured under her breath, staring at her bread bowl once again. “Are you telling me that Josie thinks I hate her?”

Lizzie raised her eyebrows, like it was absurd that Hope might think otherwise. “ _Everyone_ thinks you hate Josie,” she deadpanned. “You’re not exactly the queen of subtlety.”

Hope pouted, looking very upset about what Lizzie was telling her. “But I _don’t_ ,” she repeated, as though she were trying to convince Lizzie of something very important.

Lizzie’s brow furrowed with confusion. “Why do you look like I just kicked your puppy?” she snarked.

Hope seemed to be even more agitated by this response, nervously shifting in her seat. “Lizzie, please,” she practically begged. “Can you tell her that I don’t hate her?”

Lizzie stared at Hope like she was an alien. “Why can’t you just tell her that yourself?” she retorted.

Hope froze, the question taking her off guard. “I…,” she trailed off awkwardly, looking a lot like she wanted to be anywhere else. Her eyes darted around the room. “I’m gonna go buy a cookie?” she finally said, the statement coming across more like a question.

Lizzie recoiled with confusion. “ _What?”_ she snapped. 

But Hope was already out of her seat and halfway to the front counter before Lizzie could object.

Lizzie glared intensely at Hope’s back while she spoke to the cashier. 

Hope apparently wasn’t going to make this easy for her, Lizzie realized. 

No matter—Lizzie was no quitter.

* * *

On Friday, Hope made her way into class eight minutes early.

Hope usually tried to get to Calc before Josie got there, simply because it was easier to keep her cool if she was already sitting down. That way, she didn’t have to worry about tripping and embarrassing herself as she walked past Josie on the way to her desk. It also allowed her to avoid having an existential crisis about whether or not to make eye contact.

If Hope got to class first, she could just keep her head down when Josie came in, pretending to be thoroughly invested in her empty notebook.

She somehow both dreaded and looked forward to Calc. She dreaded it because she knew that with every class would come new material that would generally go right over her head (material she would have to try to teach herself later).

But Hope still looked forward to seeing Josie—or, she looked forward to seeing the back of Josie’s head, anyway (it was far less stressful when Josie wasn’t looking back at her).

Hope thanked God that no one seemed to have noticed her staring yet. She probably looked like an absolute creep. 

But, Hope now realized, people _had_ noticed her staring, according to Lizzie. Everyone just interpreted it as _glaring_. Hope couldn't decide if that was better or worse. 

Because it meant that Josie thought that Hope hated her. 

And that didn’t sit well with Hope. 

Not at all. 

In fact, Hope had barely been able to sleep ever since she found out about it. It was pretty much the worst-case scenario. 

She highly doubted that Lizzie was actually going to tell Josie that Hope didn’t hate her, even at Hope’s request. (Hope couldn’t entirely blame Lizzie for that, though—how would she even bring it up?)

But Hope really didn’t want Josie to think that she hated her. So, when Josie came into the classroom, Hope looked up at her and barely restrained herself from blurting out _"I don’t hate you."_

That would be a _really_ weird thing to say, Hope reminded herself.

She just stared blankly at Josie instead as Josie approached her desk.

Josie noticed right away. She gave Hope a curious look. Hope was making a concentrated effort not to _"glare"_ at her, but Hope knew that she most likely looked more like she was making a concentrated effort to read Josie’s mind.

Josie’s brow furrowed with confusion after a moment, and that’s all it took for Hope to stare back down at her notebook with a blush. Hope nervously sketched out a few lines on the empty page, but she stopped the moment she realized it was starting to look a little bit like Josie's face.

Weirdly, Josie wasn’t accompanied by Lizzie when she walked into class, like she usually was. Even when the bell rang and Mr. Williams started to lecture, Lizzie had yet to make an appearance—the desk next to Josie's remained empty.

Hope wondered if Lizzie might be sick or something. It was weird, though. Lizzie hadn't texted her or anything, and they were supposed to have a tutoring session later that day.

Immediately after this thought occurred to her, Hope was thoroughly distracted for a solid twenty minutes. She zoned out as soon as Josie shifted in her seat enough to capture her attention, no longer hearing a word Mr. Williams was saying.

Josie started absentmindedly rubbing at her shoulder as she scrawled down her notes. Josie had a habit of doing that, Hope noted. Hope wondered if her shoulders might be tense or something. Maybe Josie was stressed?

The thought sent Hope down a rabbit hole of wondering what Josie might be stressed out about. Hope's eyes practically glazed over and her thoughts were nowhere near Calculus.

Hope's reverie was interrupted when her phone vibrated in her pocket. 

Hope frowned. Who would be texting her right now?

Hope glanced up to check if Mr. Williams was paying attention to her. His back was turned and he was scrawling down some problem on the board, so she figured it was safe enough to glance down and look at her phone.

**_Lizzie [9:22]:_ ** _I’m skipping school today_

Hope stared down at the message with a frown. She considered how she should reply—should she ask why? Or should she just acknowledge that she'd received the message?

"Hope," Mr. Williams called out.

Hope jumped, nearly falling out of her seat. Her eyes darted up to see Mr. Williams looking at her with a disappointed frown.

Hope gulped. "I—uh, yeah?" she stuttered out awkwardly, trying to be discreet about shoving her phone back in her pocket.

His frown deepened. He gestured to the problem on the board. "Do you know the answer?" he asked.

Hope froze, her eyes darting over to the board to see the problem for the first time. It had a symbol she didn't even recognize that looked a bit like a giant " _S"._

Hope apparently stared at the problem for too long, because suddenly multiple students were turning around to stare at her as they waited for her to answer. 

Even Josie, who turned just enough to glance at Hope over her shoulder.

Josie looked at her curiously, and Hope's breath caught in her throat. She froze even further, like a deer in headlights. She nearly forgot that Mr. Williams had asked her a question, until he awkwardly cleared his throat to get her attention.

Hope forced her eyes back over to Mr. Williams. "Um," she said, her voice a bit high-pitched. She cleared her throat. "No, I, uh—definitely not."

A few students snickered at her, most of them already turning back around to look at Mr. Williams again. Josie stared at her for a moment longer, looking slightly concerned. She gave Hope a shy smile, almost like she was trying to provide some comfort after Hope's failure to answer the problem. Then, she turned back around.

Hope's heart seized in her chest at the gesture.

Mr. Williams pursed his lips. "Pay attention," he ordered simply, turning back to the board to avoid embarrassing Hope any further.

Hope didn't dare to pull her phone out of her pocket for the rest of the class period, even when it vibrated in her back pocket.

As soon as the bell rang, though, Hope pulled her phone out and unlocked it to check Lizzie's message.

**_Lizzie [9:42]:_ ** _answer me. math should be ur top priority_

Hope rolled her eyes, quickly typing out a response.

**_Hope [9:50]:_ ** _uh, okay?_

**_Hope [9:50]:_ ** _so, I’ll see you monday then?_

Hope shoved her phone back into her pocket, gathering her things and pulling her bag onto her shoulder. She frowned when she saw that Josie was already headed out the door, but she quickly recovered and followed the crowd.

Hope pulled her phone out again when she reached her locker, because it had vibrated twice more in transit.

**_Lizzie [9:51]:_ ** _uhhhh, no_

**_Lizzie [9:51]:_ ** _you’ll see me at 230_

Hope frowned down at her phone. She puzzled over the messages for a moment, but then she realized that she didn't have very much time to analyze them—she had to get to her next class.

**_Hope [9:53]:_ ** _i dont understand_

Hope quickly opened her locker, switching out her books and scurrying along to her next class. She situated herself at her desk and glanced at the clock. Since she was a few minutes early, she pulled her phone out to check Lizzie's reply.

**_Lizzie [9:56]:_ ** _ur coming to my house the second you get out_

Hope squinted down at her phone, her lips parting with confusion.

**_Hope [9:58]:_ ** _what_

**_Lizzie [9:59]:_ ** _if we dont get those forms filled out 3 times a week, mr williams will take me off payroll_

Before Hope could manage to type out a response, the bell rang. Her teacher gave her a pointed look as she rose from her desk to begin the lecture. Hope frowned and shoved her phone back into her pocket.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Lizzie :)
> 
> let me know what you think!


End file.
